“I give good parent…(he gives good parent)… I give good parent (he gives real good parent)… I gi-”
“Jess, are you going to sing that the entire car ride?” His amused, yet slightly anxious tone interrupts the sound of my voice filling the small space of his Prius
“Maybe. Why, does it bug you?”
When he doesn’t answer immediately, I glance over at him. I note the slightly less-than-relaxed grip he has on the steering wheel, and the determined set of his jawline. He’s wearing jeans but with a purple dress shirt; casual, but not too casual.
“Oh my god,” I begin. “Are you nervous?”
He rolls his eyes, and tightens his grip on the wheel before sparing me a brief agitated glance. “Yes, Jess. I’m a little nervous.”
I continue to stare at him, mouth slightly agape.
“Oh c’mon, like you wouldn’t be slightly nervous if you were in my situation?” I roll my eyes, and prepare to reply, but he cuts me off. “That was rhetorical, Jess. You know I’m right; you’d be a little anxious too if the roles were reversed.”